


Rib cages of paper

by niome13665



Category: Original Work
Genre: F/M, First Time Together, I love the people I write with, MCRP, Poetic license on a fade to black, Sexual Content, Warm and Fuzzy Feelings, more flowery than descriptive, our friend’s characters made a cake to congratulate, poetry? Poetry.
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-16
Updated: 2020-07-16
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:29:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 832
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25309012
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/niome13665/pseuds/niome13665
Summary: The door shut and they were sealed within their own world a while, lost in each other.
Relationships: Angelica Monroe/Jean Trabante, Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 4





	Rib cages of paper

**Author's Note:**

> So, a little context, these are my and my friend’s characters, we faded to black in the rp and our friend’s characters made a cake, shenanigans ensued. Anyways, a fey mood struck me and I ended up scribbling down the words dancing in my head, which was my interpretation of what happened after the fade to black, enjoy.

* * *

Knowing looks and laughter as he dragged her past. Already up to something, they always were. She loved and hated them fondly for it.

Door shut, lock barely turned before his hands are on her again, around her waist. Pressing close, hot kisses to her neck, annoyed whispers in her ear, drawing a laugh.

“How could you, ma chérie? They’ll never let us live it down now.”

“They knew by looking at us, no use hiding it, hm?”

A turn, a kiss, a push towards the bed. Awkwardness giving way once more to unbridled passion with every garment left between bed and door.

A fall in tangled limbs. Lips parting for stolen breaths. Eyes meet, exposed. Relishing the kaleidoscope of pleasure of skin on skin. Gods, how long has it been? For her? For him?

It didn’t matter.

It was different here.

A choice her own. His mind clear.

Both knew the steps, but never with each other. Bashful, unsure, overwhelmed by the frightening warmth and love that seizes her breast as the moment snaps and they crash back together.

Bodies shifting, growing hotter, mouths melding into liquid tongues and gasps of fire.

Shift. Writhe. Sounds muted between kisses and desire.

Hips thrusting, grinding, eager. Molten cores aching for connection.

Finally breaking for air. Mere inches, too much. Already craving more of his taste in her mouth.

But a greater need requires filling.

Hooded eyes, lifted hips and grasping fingers. He tenses, hisses. She smiles, a desire to tease him. An idea for another time, the want to be one with him outweighs all other thoughts.

Gods. When has she ever _wanted_ like this?

For a mere moment she straddles the line between making love and simply fucking.

_So, this is the difference feelings make._

She holds his heated gaze, heart lusting and adoring.

The moment freezes, bodies aligned. A key to a lock.

A shift, drop, sheath. Oh! It burns! Fire licking sweet agony up her spine.

She groans, stilling. Too much, too fast. Oh, it hurts.

Soft kisses, gentle caress and warm laughter coax her eyes to him.

“Mon doux fou,” a teasing smirk, eyes bright with desire and worry. “Do not hurt yourself, l’amour, we’ve plenty of time.”

“I’m impatient,” petulant, affecting a pout that turns to a giggly smile.

Another laugh and drawn close for sweet kisses. A sigh of contentment. Over stretched muscles relaxing.

As the pain fades, the ache intensifies.

She moves, testing, a shared moan, mouths seeking another embrace.

A slight burn returns, fuck, she tore something in her haste. A vague thought for later, drowned out by the waves of colorful pleasure.

Grasping fingers trace patterns in flesh, amid biting kisses and gasping breaths. Hips meet together in primal dance.

Like wildfire, they twist and writhe ever higher, tangled limbs and heaving bodies slick with sweat and liquid desire.

Tension builds, hearts pound away in rib cages made of paper and tattered dreams.

Both shattered and bruised by cruel worlds and prisons of their own making. Freed, escaped and healing through time, good friends and experiences.

Finding wholeness on their own two feet and an odd completeness with each other. Love not found through fate or soul mates, but time, friendship and care.

Pleasure and passion do not change the dance they called friends, merely adds new steps and draws them closer, a new name for the next move - lovers - natural as drawing breath.

She wasn’t sure who said it, three words breathed amidst the rising passion, imprinted on their skin in marks of lust and tattooed on her heart forever.

_I love you._

The thread holding them on the very precipice snaps and they tumble into the abyss of bliss. Explosions and fireworks of colors she’ll never remember but she names them all now as ecstasy.

They cling to each other as waves crash in climax, lost at sea until they’re left drifting on stiller waters.

Passion cools to quiet satisfaction, soft laughter and gentle kisses.

Here, in this room, it is just they two, curled around each other, loath to move and shatter the spell cast, the dream that nothing existed outside of he and she.

The moment catches up to reality with shuffling steps and muffled laughter.

A sigh. A fond smile. Quiet groans and helping hands to redress and make presentable. Lingering touches and quickly looking away, barely hidden heated glances. Keep the clothes between them, the world awaited. They had time later.

Blushing cheeks, coy smiles, one last stolen kiss before opening the door and accepting the fate of good natured teasing and well wishing.

Honestly, where she’d be without the lot of them - the family she’d found by happenstance - she never wanted to think about.

She loved them, “congrats on the sex” cakes and all.

When the laughter dies down and the ribbing ends (for now), hand in hand they close the door on their little world of a borrowed room, retreating into each other’s arms once more.

**Author's Note:**

> Feedback and constructive criticism is always welcome, thank you for reading <3


End file.
